


Come Home (That’s Why I Need You Here)

by RedLipped



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, but i mean who doesn't love ghost!gavin, my apologies in advance, this is literally just an angst-fluff roller coaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLipped/pseuds/RedLipped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the 364th day since the accident, Michael was alone. On the 365th day, he wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Home (That’s Why I Need You Here)

**Author's Note:**

> based off of an OTP prompt from blakkat56 on Tumblr:  
> "Imagine person A of your OTP died years ago. Annually, they can come back for one day. Person B always wakes up and rolls over (usually to an empty space), but when A is there smiling, they know it’ll be a good day. B calls off of work or skips school to spend as much quality time with A as they can. Time flies when you’re having fun, and both realize that it’s getting late. At the last minute of the day, B hugs and kisses A, the feeling of their lips and their warmth slowly fading away. B cries themselves to sleep, but they’re always excited for next year."
> 
> i changed it up a little bit to make it less dreary and depressing
> 
> title is from "Come Home" by OneRepublic. 10/10, excellently sad song  
> <3

Michael had adapted to the silence. After living with someone for 2 years, the silence had initially been a shock. Returning after a work day to an empty apartment was a drastic difference to what he was used to. Prior to the accident, Michael would unlock his apartment door with his boyfriend bouncing on his heels, whistling or babbling on about something he had heard that day. In contrast, the silence was deafening. But over the course of the last 364 days, he had adjusted. For the past year, he lived alone.

Over the year, he had gone through many changes. Some major, some minor. His co-workers and friends would notice both the big things and the little things. Typically, the obvious changes were what people detected the most. For example, for the first 2 months he was angrier than usual. He would constantly talk about the subject of fairness with a tone of disgust. In his opinion, nothing was fair anymore. Rage Quits became more violent, and he had already broken four Xbox controllers and his computer mouse. Geoff paid for the replacements without complaints.

As for the smaller things, Lindsay noticed them the most. He would go longer without getting a haircut, until his curls were down in his eyes and bothersome. He wouldn't go out to lunch as often, instead opting to stay and eat alone in the office. Lindsay was concerned, but she remained silent out of respect. Over drinks with Barbara she would discuss her worries, and they would both reassure each other that he would heal with time.

Fortunately, they were right. Time heals all wounds, and Michael gradually began opening up again. He would accept offers to go out for drinks on a Friday night, and he would go to the movies when his co-workers asked. He started tweeting more, after being borderline silent on social media for months.

He no longer woke up in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat and sobbing after night terrors. He no longer clung to his boyfriend's old pillow at 3 AM, begging aloud to whatever deity that might be out there for some type of closure. Occasionally, he would still stretch his arm across the empty side of the bed, hoping to make contact with a hairy chest or warm skin. Realistically, he knew he would just end up smacking cold bed sheets.

He was getting better. At 10:34 PM on the 364th day, he washed his face and stared at his own reflection in the mirror. The deep purple bags under his eyes were starting to fade. He had been getting an adequate amount of sleep lately, compared to the first few months.

At dawn on the 365th day since the accident, Michael rolled over in bed. Before he even opened his eyes to greet the morning, he knew the date. He knew it was coming, and had been dreading it for the past week.

He lingered in the silence for a few minutes before lying flat on his back. Every muscle ached, and the thought of having to face the day made every bone in his body feel heavy, pulling him down. Everything in him wanted to curl back up under the warm sheets and sleep for the next 24 hours.

Despite his brain trying to restrain him, he stretched in an attempt to relieve the tension in his muscles. Unlike the last 364 days of the past year, where his arm would find contact with cold bed sheets and a lack of the person who he longed for, on this morning he smacked an arm attached to another body.

Michael's eyes flew open and he leapt from the bed as though he had been burned. With his back against the wall, he stared in shock at the person occupying the other side of his bed.

Gavin was lying back against the headboard with his old pillow propped up behind him. Hesitantly, he watched Michael with a slightly faltering smile. He had already died once, he didn't particularly enjoy the idea of dying again at the hands of his own boyfriend.

Michael heaved every breath. He knew he had to be dreaming, but he could feel the cold wall behind him. He could feel the sweat start to form on his forehead. Everything felt too real to be a dream. Michael's eyes were trained on the man who looked exactly like his deceased boyfriend as he began to move.

Gavin slowly sat up from the bed and approached Michael. With steady hands, he gently reached forward and wrapped his hands around Michael's forearms.

Michael inhaled sharply. He let his eyes fall shut as Gavin ran his hands up and down his arms. Gavin was murmuring something he couldn't quite understand, and everything sounded so loud as the silence in their apartment was broken by a voice other than Michael's or someone on the television for the first time in a year.

He gave in to the gentle touches and fell forward, legs giving out and relying on Gavin for support. The reality of the situation began to set in as Gavin held his body up, wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Michael,” he murmured in his ear. Chills ran down Michael's spine.

He felt his heart break all over again at the sound of his name being spoken in the English accent he had missed so much, despite how much he used to mock it. For the last year of mourning, he had longed to hear it more and more each day.

Michael's state of muted shock finally passed as tears starting to roll down his cheeks. He began to sob, the hardest he had cried since the day he buried his soulmate. Unlike that day, this time he buried his head beside Gavin's neck and held onto him so tightly, as though releasing his grip would end whatever temporary heaven he was in.

Flashbacks and memories played like a movie through Michael's mind as he broke down. Memories of when they first met, memories of their dates, of them making love, of them curling up together at night. Memories of them driving home from work, of the accident, of the funeral. Memories of Michael returning to an empty home and collapsing in tears on the front doormat, unable to make it to the bed.

The sad mingled in with the good, and he had a hard time wrapping his head around it all. Gavin had begun running his fingers through his hair, messing up his curls and breathing in his scent. The gentle words being whispered against Michael's head helped keep him sane while he wept for every day that he had spent alone.

Slowly but surely, his tears began to subside. Gavin took the opportunity to move them both so that they sat on their bed, ignoring Michael's whine of protest at the slight decrease in contact.

Michael leaned his forehead against Gavin's, silent and exhausted. His muscles still ached, his head was still spinning. He felt two hands on his cheeks and he opened his eyes for the first time since he broke down.

Gavin was staring intently at him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Michael broke the silence that had fallen over them.

“How is this possible?”

Gavin's gaze flickered downward briefly. “I know you don't believe in ghosts. This is complicated to explain.”

“I'll believe anything right now. I just need an explanation. This doesn't feel like a dream.”

Michael watched his expression shift, as if he were choosing his words carefully. Finally, Gavin licked his lips and began.

“I've been with you for a year, Michael. It has been the most frustrating and heartbreaking year I've ever experienced. I watched your world fall apart since the day you stood in the hospital and got the news. I was right beside you at my own damn funeral. I sat beside you every single time you cried, and I lay with you through every nightmare.

“You're able to physically see me once a year, but only on this day. I can't explain it, but that's the way this death thing works. There is no hell, and heaven only exists if you choose to go. Otherwise, you choose to stay here, not as a ghost but more like a spirit.

“See, what I found funny was that they tell you there is no hell. Your choices are to stay among the living or go to heaven with a bunch of strangers. But staying here is hell. Screaming at people but getting no response because they can't _hear_ you is hell. Holding someone while they cry into a pillow at 3 AM but they can't feel you is hell. You exist only in memories.”

He paused and laughed, but it was bitter and humourless.

“No matter how often you thought you were alone, Michael, you never were. I was beside you the whole time.”

That sentence brought Michael to tears all over again. Gavin panicked, grabbing his hands.

“No, no, I didn't mean to make you sad! I meant to make you happy! I've been here all along, Michael!”

Michael took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.

“I get it, I do. Logically it makes no fucking sense, but I understand.”

Gavin grinned, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy's neck.

“Just think about it, Michael. We can spend the entire day together.”

 

Hours later, the boys were cuddled up on the couch in the living room and telling each other stories, with _Always Sunny_ repeats playing softly in the background.

Gavin was telling Michael about a time last June when he watched Michael stumble through the front door to their apartment, only to fall on his face and swear at the rug for 5 minutes.

He reminisced on how hard he laughed that day, doubled over until he hit the floor. Michael cackled, audibly wishing that he had been able to see him that day. Gavin just shook his head.

“I'm glad you didn't. I think you would have eaten me, honestly. You were so angry and I felt so guilty for laughing. The only reason I laughed is because I knew you couldn't hear me.”

For that, he received a punch in the arm and a huge grin.

“You're such a prick. You would have laughed at me even if I _could_ see you, and you know it.”

Gavin broke into giggles and curled his head into Michael's chest. A calm moment passed and the doorbell rang, much to their dismay. Michael not-so-gracefully shoved Gavin off of him, satisfied with the _thump_ that the other boy made when he hit the floor.

Michael approached the door and took a brief glance through the peephole before pulling the door open.

“Pizza delivery for Mr. Michael Jones.”

Michael took the pizza from the delivery man and handed him more than enough to cover the price of the pizza and the tip. The man's eyes widened in shock as he silently counted the money.

“Thank you so much, sir. Have a good evening.”

Michael simply nodded and shut the door as the man walked away. He spun around to face the living room again, staring at Gavin who was still lying on the floor and pouting at him.

“Get up, you big baby. You're the one who wanted me to order pizza _like the good ol' days_ ,” Michael imitated his accent.

“But Michael-”

“ _But Micoo!_ ”

 

It was amazing to both of them how easily they could just fall back into their normal conversation. For Michael, it felt as though he hadn't actually spent the last year mourning the loss of his boyfriend, and for Gavin, it felt as though he hadn't attempted to tear his hair out _multiple times_ over the torture of watching his boyfriend for so long and being unable to comfort him.

They spent the rest of the evening eating pizza and playing video games, in an attempt to find some normalcy in the process of making up for lost time. The longer Michael thought about the end of the night, the more his head hurt, so he ignored it in favour of making Gavin laugh. If the boy was right, and he truly wouldn't be able to see him for another 365 days, he wanted to stitch the sound of Gavin's laughter into his brain permanently. He had gone so long without hearing it.

 

Michael knew all good things had to eventually come to an end. At around 10 PM, he languidly walked to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He splashed water on his face to try and stay awake for a while longer, but he was exhausted. In all honesty, a small voice in the back of his brain was telling him to give in to sleep, because he did not want to be conscious when Gavin slipped away from him again.

Unable to shake the thought from his mind, he left the bathroom and entered the bedroom. He paused in the doorway, staring at Gavin who was stretched out on the one side of their bed that had been empty and cold for so long. He committed the scene to memory before turning off the bathroom light, sending the room into darkness.

He walked to his side of the bed and stripped down to his boxers before crawling in bed with his favourite source of warmth. In retrospect, he had missed these moments the most. For the two years of their relationship, their average night was spent cuddled together and de-stressing after long work days. Sometimes in silence, sometimes exchanging stories or idle chatter.

However, on this night, Michael did not de-stress. He grew more tense as the minutes dragged by, just waiting for Gavin to disappear again. Gavin held him close.

“Just remember, even though you can't hear me or see me, I'm still here. You're not alone.”

“I bet you watch me shower, pervert.”

Gavin blushed a deep shade of red. Michael broke out into cackling laughter, but as his laughter slowly calmed down, it quietly developed into crying as he realized the true intensity of the situation. He felt like a madman.

Gavin smiled softly and wiped his tears away. He dreaded the next few hours as well. On Michael's end, he couldn't see, hear, or interact with him. On Gavin's end, it was practically torture. He wasn't exactly looking forward to another year of talking to himself in a failed attempt of communication with his boyfriend.

He watched as Michael's eyes began to fall closed. Michael jolted slightly and woke himself up, trying desperately to stay awake and make the most of the next hour or so. Gavin shook his head and held him a little tighter.

“Go to sleep, boi. I'll be here in the morning.”

The trueness of his words hit Michael like a freight train. Gavin _would_ be there in the morning, but Michael wouldn't be able to see him. He wouldn't be able to hear his voice or his laughter. He wouldn't be able to leech off of him for body heat in the early hours of the morning when he was cold.

Michael was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Gavin's lips press softly against his own. The kiss was soft and they both lingered together for a moment, breathing in each other's air.

“I love you, Gav.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

Once again, the silence fell over the room like a thick, heavy blanket. But this time, Michael knew he wasn't alone.

 

364 days later, Michael lay in bed at 11:56 PM. He was anxious, and in all honesty, he was kind of terrified. He panicked over the thought that maybe this time, Gavin _wouldn't_ show up and he would really be alone. He had been simultaneously looking forward to and dreading this day for the past year.

He watched the LED numbers on his bedside clock change with each passing minute.

_11:57._

_11:58._

_11:59._

He squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to face the fact that there was a high possibility Gavin wasn't going to reappear. He had spent the last year toying with the idea that the whole day had been a vivid dream or a hallucination. Gavin was dead. There was no way for Michael to know if he was still beside him every day, given that he couldn't see him. What if Gavin had gotten tired of being unable to talk to him? What if he had stormed out of the apartment one day and gone off to haunt Geoff or Ray instead?

Lost in his mind, he missed the slight change of air around him. He didn't even realize who was beside him until he felt a familiar pair of lips press against his own.

His eyes slowly opened and he stared up at the green eyes he had only seen in photographs and old videos for the past year. The intensity of the situation made him want to break down. Gavin grinned at him, nearly tearing up himself.

“Hi, boi.”

 

They spent the day together, the same as they did the previous year. Gavin told his favourite stories from his silent days of observing Michael, reminiscing on amusing moments he witnessed in the Achievement Hunter office and times when he would shout at Michael at the top of his lungs in frustration of feeling ignored at home.

Michael told Gavin about how he felt like he was doing a bit better. He told him that he no longer cried as often at the thought of the accident that tore them apart—he cringed at his word choice—and Gavin beamed at him proudly over this information.

They both repeatedly told each other how much they had looked forward to the arrival of this day, and how for years to come, they always would.

 

On roughly the 19,723rd  day, exactly 54 years later, Michael Jones was 83. Lying in bed in his own home, he stretched as much as his limbs could handle it, grumbling over the pain in his lower back. He gently rolled over and reached across the bed. The wrinkled flesh of his arm met the warm skin of his soulmate, once again. Gavin had reappeared every year without fail.

At dawn on the 19,724th  day, Michael absentmindedly stretched his arm across the bed. He inhaled sharply when his arm smacked someone else's skin. _This couldn't be right._

He rolled over and stared in shock at Gavin lying beside him. Gavin stared back with tear-filled green eyes. Michael searched his mind for the date, hoping he was wrong, but he knew he wasn't wrong. The reality of the situation set in slowly. Michael let out a small gasp and watched as Gavin nodded, tears finally spilling from his eyes. Michael didn't have to ask him, he just knew.

They no longer had to wait patiently for that one day each year. They could spend the rest of time with each other. From this point on, they were alone together.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to stalk me at jacktapillo.tumblr.com


End file.
